


A Prophet Won't Tell You the Past

by clear_sight



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemons, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clear_sight/pseuds/clear_sight
Summary: "Well, then I suppose we'll have to make this work.""Yes, I suppose we will.  Don't reckon She'll see fit to give you a daemon.""I doubt your lot will give you one either.""No need, angel.  Mine isn't really what you'd call a daemon, though.  Strictly speaking.""Well, since it appears we'll be here for a while, perhaps we should...  Oh, I don't know!""Collaborate?""I wouldn't call it that.""Oh please.  But I do think I might have a plan that will be mutually beneficial."The story of the apocalypse has been well documented.  Adam's defeat of Lucifer, the victory of humanity.  But there is more than this small slice of the story that makes up Aziraphale and Crowley's long, long history.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a collection of Tumblr posts. I'm bad at technology, so I'll post links when I can. One of them involved Crowley being smarter than his head office, one involved Crowley's identity before the fall, and one involved daemons. So here's this fic casserole for your enjoyment. Please pardon my slightly changing the name fifty thousand times.
> 
> This will probably be told in a series of flashbacks and flashforwards. Because to quote the good Doctor on the matter of time, "from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of timey-wimey... stuff."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning, God created quite a bit more than the heaven and the earth. In the beginning, in the _very_ beginning, God created Heaven and Her angels. And that was where it all began to go awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much ado about the great nothing.

In the beginning, there was a great nothing. And in that nothing existed a God. Actually, She was a Goddess, but the men who wrote the Bible couldn't quite fathom that. Eventually, She just got used to disregarding human names and pronouns. But all of this is beside the point. In the beginning, there was a great nothing and in that nothing existed a Goddess. She decided the nothing might be better if there was something, so She set about creating that something.

This is probably a story familiar to anyone who lives, well, _anywhere_. Christians are quite fond of telling it, often doing so quite enthusiastically to people the Christians have traveled quite a long way to talk to and who would rather the Christians just left them alone. That, too, is beside the point. Besides, most everyone _except_ those particularly over-eagar Christians seem to already be aware of this, too.

More to the point is the bit most people don't realize. Which is that the Creation was not a single event. You see, human writers have focused on human things. And in doing so, they have missed rather a lot about that above and that below. It is this that will interest you, dear reader.

The creation of 'the heavens and the earth' was not, in fact, the first creation. What would, to a human, be several thousand years prior to this, God created another realm. That realm being the Heaven. Not the _heavens_ , but Heaven. This realm, She populated with humanoid beings of pure light and grace. Although they had no bodies in the way that we might conceive of them, as well as rather more wings than the average human (which is to say, any at all), one could mostly regard them as humanity 1.0. Except for a few key differences.

The first of these was free will. Humans like to think that they are unique in this. They are not. The difference is that this was a bug in the coding of humanity 1.0 that was upgraded to a feature in humanity 3.0. Yes, humanity 3.0. Who, then, you might be asking, is humanity 2.0? We'll get to that in a moment.

In the beginning, there was a great nothing. In that nothing, there existed a Goddess, who thought that the nothing could be improved by adding a little _something_. And so She created Heaven. And of course existing all by one's lonesome got tiring, so She created Herself some company in the form of children. Except that, like all first time parents, She did not know nearly as much about parenting as She would have liked to believe. This was hardly Her fault, as there weren't exactly any more experienced mothers She could ask for child-rearing advice.

At the beginning, She created seven such beings. The first She named Metatron, and She called him the Celestial Scribe and the Voice of God. The second She named Michael, and called her the Warrior of God and the Righteous One. The third She named Lucifer, and called him the Morningstar and the Bringer of Light. The fourth She named Gabriel, and She called him the Messenger of God and the Bringer of Peace. The fifth She named Raphael, and She called him the Healer and the Giver of Life. The sixth She named Uriel, and called her the Light of God and the Bringer of Order. The seventh She named Sandalphon, and She called him the Knower and the Gatherer of Prayers.

They were the perfect children. She created them as adults, so there were no terrible twos of hassles like learning to walk. They were precious to Her, these seven. But like all children, there were growing pains. Metatron, Her firstborn so to speak, was very close to his Mother. Likewise, Michael was very devoted to her mother. Lucifer, too, loved his Mother, although he was not as close as Metatron and not as blindly loyal as Michael. Gabriel was equally devoted to his Mother and his older sister and took their word as law. Raphael loved his whole family, though he was very inquisitive and looked up to his older brother, Lucifer. Uriel was fond of her Mother, but her true loyalty and admiration fell upon her older sister. And Sandalphon, the youngest, loved his Mother, but did not feel as though he played a particularly important role in family dynamics.

Together, the eight of them crafted stars and planets and quasars and the whole of the universe. Raphael reveled in this work, finding great beauty in it. When the work got to be rather more than eight of them could handle alone, God made more angels. These, however, She did not hold as closely as Her first seven. These were Her true sons and daughters, Her archangels. The other angels were divided amongst these seven archangels.

The problem began with these new angels. Lucifer began to question his Mother's devotion to Her children. To his brothers and sisters. Michael, the next oldest, remained fiercely loyal to their Mother. Metatron was rarely seen in those days, for it was he to whom God entrusted Her words and laws. He was too busy giving God's orders to the lower angels to intercede in his younger siblings' arguments.

Over time, however, that argument grew. And grew. And grew. In very much the way most things do when ignored: thorny, complicated, and nearly unstoppable. Eventually, Lucifer had had enough of his sister's blind devotion to their Mother. He began a rebellion. Many of the lesser angels under his command became caught up in the fighting. So, too, did Raphael. His loyalty to his brother and his admiration of Lucifer's willingness to ask questions swept him into the conflict. When God found out what was happening, She banished Lucifer and all of his followers to the lake of fire. She punished them further by burdening them each with a soul. And thus the new race of beings known as the demons was born. Humanity 2.0.

Among those to fall was the fourth archangel, Raphael. No one much noticed when the story was recounted to humanity, however, because he had not led the rebellion, nor had he even played an important roll in it. He had simply asked too many questions and was banished as a way to prevent further rebellion. The archangel Raphael did not capture the humans' imagination in the way that Lucifer did, because the archangel Raphael did not so much fall as saunter vaguely downward.


	2. From Dust and Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humanity gets off to a rocky start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which four people are posited as the basis for a rather larger chunk of the world's mythology than they probably ought to be. Also, try to spot the pop culture references...

" _Do_ you mind?" Aziraphale asked irritably as the snake once again tried to wriggle its way into his jacket.

"Well if you hadn't picked _England_ , of all bloody places, maybe I wouldn't be cold," the snake hissed back. "In case you've forgotten, I'm an ectotherm! Now hold still."

No one passing them on the street thought anything of this. That was because, to the unsuspecting humans, it appeared perfectly normal. Simply an oddly dressed man talking to his daemon. Hardly worth noticing on the streets of London. Especially in Soho, where Aziraphale's version of oddly dressed really didn't seem too out of place.

Aziraphale just sighed and gave in. "Fine."

"Thank you," the snake replied, in as annoyed a manner as he could. He slithered down the arm of Aziraphale's jacket. Weaving himself around the angel's upper arm, he managed to orient himself so that he could poke his head out of Aziraphale's collar.

"You _do_ know this wasn't tailored to accommodate a snake in the sleeve, don't you?" the angel told the snake.

"Oh, shut up. We're almost back to the bookshop." The snake was, of course, completely correct. It wasn't as though the pair of them hadn't been wandering these streets together for centuries.

Upon reaching the front step, Aziraphale fished the key from his pocket. The snake had tried to convince him he needed to upgrade his security, but Aziraphale disagreed. The combination of angelic and demonic magic was security enough. As soon as they were through the door and had it firmly closed and locked behind them, the snake dropped itself to the floor and began to grow at an alarming rate. As it did this, it slithered its way around furniture and the haphazard piles of books until it disappeared through a cat flap into a room marked with a sign which read simply, "Private." There, the snake stood up and ran a hand through its short, expertly styled, flame-red hair.

"Really, Aziraphale, we need to have a talk about your hoarding," Crowley groused. "One of these days one of your stacks of books is going to fall on me and discorporate me. And Hell has too much bloody paperwork for that sort of thing."

* * *

It may, perhaps, help to explain precisely how this situation came about. It began some six thousand years ago. Well, if one were _really_ to examine it, one could claim it began with the Fall. But for our purposes, we shall say that it began roughly six thousand years ago.

After the Fall, God created humanity 3.0. That, dear reader, would be you. Unless you happen not to be human, in which case it isn't. (If you happen not to be part of humanity 3.0, then perhaps you are part of humanity 4.0. Or, as the humans refer to you, dolphins. If that is the case, you should perhaps do yourselves a favor and get packing for Alpha Centauri now. You know, to beat the rush. Traffic can be killer when there's a planet on the brink of destruction.)

Most humans, or at least the ones who know the story, like to believe they were the reason for the Fall. That Lucifer fell because he believed his Mother loved humanity 3.0 more than Her first seven children. This is incorrect. The Fall occurred because Lucifer believed his Mother loved the lesser angels - humanity 1.1, if you will - more than She loved him and his first six siblings. Humans have a tendency to believe they are the center of the universe, however. In fact, it was considered heresy not to until just a few hundred years ago. As such, this part of the story was grossly misrepresented in human texts.

When God created humanity 3.0 - that's probably you, in case you've lost track - She made some changes based upon the lessons she had learned from humanity 1.0 and 2.0. First of all, She bound you to a single planet. No more galavanting around the universe. She did away with the wings, as well. You wouldn't really _need_ them if you weren't flying around the universe, acting as Her construction crew. It also kept you from spreading too quickly, at least at first. 

Additionally, She gave you another impediment. Like humanity 1.0, She gave you free will. However, like humanity 2.0, She gave you souls. That is why you have a daemon. One that came with consequences. Having to see the state of your soul at all times, She reasoned, would keep you in line. Especially since you knew no different, unlike demons, who simply resented their daemons. As you doubtless know, this failed miserably. (This is, perhaps, the reason humanity 4.0 does not have daemons.)

Interestingly, these daemons did not always take the form of animals. Originally, the daemons of humans were simply balls of heavenly light. The daemons of two, very specific humans, anyway. Once Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden, however, their souls took the form of animals. Some believe this was a punishment, God's way of saying that they were no better than beasts themselves. Others believe this was one last favor from God, to protect the two from the dangers outside the Garden's walls. A certain angel felt that this was not enough, as Eve was already pregnant, and so he gave them his flaming sword as well, to protect them and keep them warm on cold nights.

What were Adam's and Eve's daemons, you may ask? They are not daemons you would likely encounter today. Eve's was an abada, perhaps the source of lore claiming that unicorns and other such similar creatures protect young girls and have powerful healing abilities. Adam's was a Bennu bird, perhaps giving rise to the lore of the roc, the simurgh, and the phoenix, which are fiercely protective and to whom snakes are a natural enemy.

This change, however, presented a peculiar challenge to the Angel of the Eastern Gate, Aziraphale, who was ordered to stay on Earth and watch over mankind as they grew. It would have been easy enough to conjure a ball of heavenly light and call it a daemon. An animal was a bit harder. Especially one he would have to maintain at all times. 

Similarly, the Great Demon Serpent, Crawly, had been ordered to stay on Earth and continue to tempt mankind away from the path of righteousness. This presented him with a challenge. He couldn't very well go on being a giant serpent. That might raise suspicions, as humans had lost the ability to speak with the beasts upon their exile from the Garden. This may not sound like a problem, since as we've already established, demons had daemons. Except that this one didn't. There were two such demons in all of Hell; those who retained their wings, the feathers blackened by the fires of the pit, and who, rather than gaining a daemon, took on animal characteristics themselves. 

Crawly was one of these. Obviously, this was not his original name, but he chose to put Heaven behind him to the greatest extent that he could. And that included his name. Crawly seemed to fit his animal form, and thus Crawly he dubbed himself. The other such demon was Lucifer, who became the Lord of Hell. Unlike all other demons - Crawly included - his were the sole mammalian animal features: the hooves and legs of a goat and the horns of a ram.

The first time the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Great Serpent stood side by side was atop the Garden wall as they watched Adam and Eve depart. At this first meeting, Crawly jokingly suggested that perhaps it had been him who had done the right thing and Aziraphale who had done the wrong. Once Adam and Eve had disappeared into the dunes, the two departed, taking leave of each other's company.

For the handful of centuries, they remained mostly apart. Aziraphale created for himself various animalistic golems in the forms of a lion, an eagle, and an ox over the years. This, perhaps, is what gave rise to the idea that angels have four faces: a man, a lion, an eagle, and an ox. Really, this could just be attributed to Aziraphale's limited talent for sculpting. These golems were, however, difficult to work with and incapable of speech. Crawly, for his part, remained a serpent much of the time. This is, perhaps, what gave rise to many of the mythological serpents found throughout the world. When he needed to perform an act of temptation that required a bit more _finesse_ , though, he would change himself into a man. However, there were certain features of the serpent he could not divest himself of. 

After a few centuries of this, however - ten centuries, to be exact - they came together again at one of the defining moments of humanity. It was as Noah was gathering the beasts two by two onto his arc that Aziraphale and Crawly had a conversation that would change the course of their next five millennia.

After Crawly had finished questioning God's decision to drown innocent children, a thing which had made Aziraphale distinctly uncomfortable, he had made another point the angel did his best to avoid contemplating.

"Well," Crawly began, his golden, serpentine eyes turning from the children playing nearby, unaware of their grim fate, to focus on Aziraphale's most recent golem. He had circled back around from an ox to an eagle to a lion again, his previous golem having been an eagle. That one had been an awkward, ungainly thing. Crawly had seen it and, while it had been an improvement on previous eagles the angel had crafted, Crawly had questioned whether it could really pass for a bird at all. The lion stared back at him impassively. "It seems She still hasn't seen fit to give you a daemon."

"Not that your lot have given you one, either," Aziraphale noted.

Crawly smiled sadly, the expression revealing fang-like incisors. "No need, angel. Although mine isn't what you could call a conventional daemon, even by demonic standards. Besides, I doubt my lot are any more capable of _creating_ a soul than you are. They're barely any good at _having_ them."

Aziraphale knew precisely what Crawly meant. Like the human-shaped golems that would be crafted by the Semites as protectors in the not so distant future, the lion that lay at Aziraphale's feet was ultimately a failed attempt at life. Aziraphale did not have the capability to create a soul, and that was precisely what a daemon was. The lion, like all his previous golems did not think or speak, merely obeyed any command literally and without consideration or question. It barely passed as a daemon, and even when it did, people tended to treat him as though there was something pitiable or unsavoury about him due to its muteness and vacant expression.

Aziraphale studied Crawly for a long moment, long enough that Crawly pulled a face at him, before he began tentatively, "Well, since it appears we may be here for a while, perhaps we should… Oh, I don't _know_!"

It was all well and good for Crawly to go around letting people think he was some sort of monster or mythical being. Aziraphale did not have that luxury. Not for the first time, he was struck by the juxtaposition of their natures and their actions. It was the angel who was forced to lie, while the demon was free to tell the truth. And it was the truth. Crawly was a mythical being. So was Aziraphale, but he couldn't just go around _telling_ people that.

"You were going to suggest we collaborate," Crawly inferred, much to Aziraphale's annoyance.

"I wouldn't call it that," the angel replied.

Crawly scoffed. "Of course _you_ wouldn't. But I do think I have an idea that could prove mutually beneficial."

And in that moment, an alliance was formed. Perhaps this was part of the ineffable plan, and perhaps it was not. Who can say for sure, after all? But one thing that _was_ certain was that, for better or for worse, it would change the course of their supernaturally long lives.


	3. Eastward Bound by Fate and Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crawly decide things would be better if they worked in tandem. There are moments when Aziraphale questions the wisdom of that decision. Usually these moments are just after Crawly gets them chased out of yet another village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue to attribute far too much of world mythology to these two ineffable idiots. This is also not where I would have ideally chosen to end this chapter, but if I didn't end it *somewhere*, it was going to and up being about fifty thousand words long and would take me about another month to actually post. (Seriously, I'm already a thousand words into the next chapter and it's nowhere near done.)
> 
> Also, yes, there is (contested) evidence of matriarchal societies in ancient pre-China. The details of their lodgings are based on houses from the time, as we'll. And let's see if you can spot the pop culture reference once again.

The two left the valley together, the angel and the demon, just as the rain was beginning to fall. Aziraphale almost raised one wing to shield his companion, just as he had atop the Garden wall. He would have done it, had it not been for the humans watching them go. A man with serpentine eyes and no daemon and a man whose daemon was mute and vacant.

It was probably for the best that no one noticed Aziraphale's daemon crumble back into muddy clay as they went. Not that it would have mattered for long. They were all a bit preoccupied with the rain that had begun to fall quite hard.

* * *

"You know, I've been thinking," Crawly said, sitting in one of two rooms of the modest home he shared with Aziraphale in Nekhen a handful of years after the flood. "I'm not really sure I like the name Crawly anymore. Bit too 'squirming at your feet' for my taste."

Aziraphale considered him for a moment. The angel was dressed as he usually was, in spotlessly white robes with no adornment. Crawly, on the other hand, was dressed in a deep, charcoal grey bordered in gold. He always had had a flair for the dramatic, even if the past few years it had only been Aziraphale who saw the way he dressed. 

"Well, perhaps your name before you fell," Aziraphale suggested, not quite understanding just how touchy a subject that was or why. "Surely you weren't called Crawly in Heaven."

Crawly snarled in a way Aziraphale had only ever heard from demons and wild dogs. "If you _ever_ suggest that again…" He took a breath, then said with barely more calm than before, "No. Not an option. And if you like not having a golem as your daemon, angel, you'll never suggest that again."

* * *

Two days passed without mention of the name. It didn't even come up in passing, as there was no need for either of them to address the other by name when they were alone. Then, while Aziraphale was sitting on the other side of the room mending the hem of his robe where he'd caught it on a bush after nearly being trampled by an aurochs on the way back from town, Crawly declared out of nowhere, "Crowley."

"What?" Aziraphale asked. It seemed a perfectly justified question.

"My name. Crowley," Crawly replied.

That was that. He went from being called Crawly to being called Crowley. And nothing much else changed. Aziraphale still went in the mornings to gather water, Crowley still helped him with a small garden by night. The rumors that Aziraphale was consorting with some sort of spirit continued to spread. The rumors that Aziraphale _was_ some kind of spirit continued to spread. After all, his pale skin and light hair and eyes were more than a little out of place. And then there was Crowley. His golden, serpentine eyes and flame-red hair stood out like a sore thumb. Even at night they were quite easy to spot if anyone wandered past.

Quite a few more years passed this way, their lives becoming a consistent routine that was comfortable to Aziraphale and terminally boring to Crowley. As the city grew and spread, Crowley took to walking its streets at night. His eyes had no trouble with the darkness. This, of course, only furthered the idea that he was some sort of spirit. A pale man with fiery hair and golden snake's eyes clad all in black and lacking a daemon wandering the streets in the dead of night. And as the city grew, it became more and more common for someone to spot him leaving Aziraphale's home in the night, which furthered the idea that Aziraphale was consorting with spirits. It took another handful of years before this resulted in the pair of them being driven out of town.

They settled next off the continent altogether. They didn't go too far. Not at first, anyway. However, when they were driven out of two more towns on what is now known as the Arabian Peninsula, they decided perhaps seeing the world would be good. 

They went east, landing first in present day Tibet. The mountains, Aziraphale had commented, still looked so young. Crowley wrote off this remark as Aziraphale being his usual cryptic self. He was, though, interested in what one might get up to up here. They stopped briefly at the summit of a mountain - an easy feat for a being with wings who could survive the vacuum of space - and admired the view. It was the highest yet to form, Aziraphale had informed Crowley. It was both pristine and desolate, beautiful and lonely. But most of the Earth was in those days, so the pair hardly took notice.

The next place they found themselves was what would one day be China. Crowley was surprised to find images of, well, _himself_ virtually everywhere. There were a few details wrong, but that was easily fixed. Legs were easy enough, especially when one had spent so many centuries making minor alterations to one's body. They were short, stumpy legs, sure, but they were legs. And he gave himself a slightly rounder head with a more pronounced snout. Just for good measure, he added small horns, like a proper demon. Aziraphale pointedly reminded him of the dinosaur skeletons God had planted as a joke, but Crowley wouldn't hear of it.

The result of this was… _interesting_ , to put it mildly. Crowly had grown himself from a size convenient for draping around Aziraphale's neck to the size of a large modern dog, just slightly longer from snout to tail than his human form. The reaction from the locals when Aziraphale hiked into view with a thusly transformed Crowley was first confusion, then awe, then panic.

Their reasoning went a little like this: This was a creature they had never seen in real life. Sure, some people had similar daemons, but they were far more serpentine. The altered form of this daemon had come to the previous village leader in her dreams about ten years prior. She had called it a protector, but warned it would be quick to anger.

And if the daemon was unusual, then the man it accompanied was no less so himself. He was so pale he practically glowed in the moonlight. The locals might have been of a bit lighter hue than their African counterparts, but none of them were as pale as this man. Even his eyes were pale. His hair they attributed to age. He had an air of wisdom that took a lifetime to accumulate, after all.

Given how strange the pair was, the thought that followed was that they were spirits. Perhaps of ancestors, perhaps of the natural world, but spirits nonetheless. And how did one greet something that may yet turn out to be a vengeful god? The answer was apparently 'carefully.'

Aziraphale and Crowley found them whisked before the leader of the village. They were given a chance to rest briefly and for Aziraphale to put on more suitable clothing first, but then they were standing before the head of the village. Like most leaders in hunter-gatherer groups recently turned partial agriculturalists, the leader was not just the one in charge of village affairs, but was also a spiritual leader. It was she who was charged with protecting her people from spiritual harm as well as physical harm.

Aziraphale was under no illusions as to the company they were in at the moment. As such, he was gracious and polite. (There was a definite advantage to the divine ability to speak and understand all languages. It had been granted grudgingly by God after the whole Tower of Babble kerfuffle. Crowley's head office had cooked up something similar for their operatives. In their case, however, it was less that they could speak and understand every language and more than they heard everything as their own language and everyone around them heard whatever it was they themselves spoke. It could be turned off if one so chose, but Aziraphale had yet to hear of any demon besides Crowley doing so.) Crowley acted archly and gave off an air of capriciousness that really wasn't too far off the mark for his typical behaviour. Aziraphale was concerned this might get them into trouble until the woman spoke of her mother's premonition. The leader's mother must have been a prophet, Aziraphale realized, but that was far less uncommon in those days.

The woman studied them for a long while, evidently debating with herself. Eventually, she decided they were not, in fact, human and daemon, but two spirits traveling in each other's company. Aziraphale was a little startled by the accuracy, but as it worked to their benefit, he admitted that this was, in fact, the case. When that pronouncement was made, Crowley stood up on his hind legs and transformed himself back into a human with flame red hair who all but towered over the village leader. 

When the woman swung her expectant gaze over to Aziraphale, he became the first the first thing he could think of. And evidently, the first thing he could think of was a large bird. One whose crest, body, and long, flowing tail were every color of the rainbow God had put up after Mesopotamia had dried out, but whose wings were pure white. His head and plume was a color that would before too long be worn by nobles. His neck and back were bright blue, while his throat and chest were verdant green. This faded to yellow on the underside of his tail, while the top of it faded from blue into yellow into orange into red. The bases of his wings, too, faded from blue and green into white. Crowley rolled his eyes at the flashy display. His own hadn't been much better, having turned his scales an iridescent black that shone with every color imaginable as the moonlight hit them, with a hint of gold to accent what he thought of as his better features, but he was a demon. Angels were supposed to he humble. Demons had no such rules.

* * *

That night, when they had been given a place to sleep for as long as they wished to stay, Crowley brought up the display of colors. He couldn't just let that pass, after all.

"What was _that_?" he asked as he pulled his robe off to air out overnight. Neither demons nor angels had any sense of shame about nudity. That is one of the few genuinely unique traits of humans.

"I don't know. I panicked!" Aziraphale replied, hanging his own robe from a small piece of wood jutting from the wall. Crowley let his gaze linger just a little too long, but the angel's back was to him, so it hardly mattered.

They had been given woven reed mats to sleep on and Aziraphale settled down onto his, pulling what was probably the pelt of some sort of ungulate over himself. Crowley settled back down into his scales and wriggled under it beside the angel on his newly acquired legs. This was nothing new, the legs aside. Crowley may not be a real reptile, but he still got cold very easily and was just as sluggish as a real snake if he was exposed to the cold for too long. Aziraphale shooed him off so that he could pull the other mat over and double the amount of covered floor. Crowley took the hint and hooked a claw into the other pelt, dragging it over. Aziraphale arranged the two pelts so that one covered the upper halves of them and the other covered the lower. They both had to admit, however, that the way the houses were sunk into the ground helped with thermoregulation.

"Oh, and your first thought was to make yourself into a giant, rainbow colored bird?" Crowley asked accusatorily.

Aziraphale just shrugged and shoved Crowley's scaly tail away from his ankle with his other foot. The demon could be quite clingy if the angel let him. "I was trying to think of something Holy."

"And you couldn't have just gone with a dove?" Crowley replied skeptically. "They're white."

"I panicked," Aziraphale repeated. Crowley just huffed in annoyance, but fell silent so that they could settle in for the night.


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley attract some unwanted attention from their respective head offices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel is a bad omen, Aziraphale thinks he's been abandoned, and Crowley is a very sulky snek.

They stayed in this village for quite a long time. Long enough that they attracted the attention of their respective head offices. It was Aziraphale who was called home first, as angels tended to pay _slightly_ more attention than demons, though only by a very small amount.

Unfortunately for him, it was Gabriel who was questioning him. And the first question out of the archangel's mouth wasn't quite a question. Not in the conventional sense.

"It seems to me that a demon would make for a strange bedfellow," the archangel commented, studying his nails. He looked up to raise an eyebrow at Aziraphale expectantly.

Much to his own credit, Aziraphale kept a level head despite his internal panic at being questioned by such a high ranking angel. He was obviously in quite a bit of trouble if he was being questioned by one of the most high ranking archangels. Trying to appear nonchalant, he shrugged in response. "Our arrangement is mutually beneficial. I needed a more convincing daemon, he needed either a human or a daemon of his own. Although with those eyes…"

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this is _not_ how we work," Gabriel said irritably. "We don't work with demons."

"I was never issued a daemon," Aziraphale replied, a bit of nerves beginning to show. "Besides, I think I may be able to redeem him."

"You _what_?" Gabriel exclaimed.

"I think that I may be able to reform him. I may be able to save him," Aziraphale clarified.

"Absolutely not," said Gabriel. He was, of course, perfectly well aware of Crowley's true identity, but that wasn't a thing the archangels went around advertising.

"You don't understand. He's _kind,_ " insisted Aziraphale in response. "I can't explain it, but… He's just kind."

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. "Fine. Fine! I'll put up with this stupid little charade. But _only_ because your attempts to create a daemon were an embarrassment to Heaven. And I expect more frequent reports. Don't go getting any ideas."

When Aziraphale was finally released, he returned immediately to the village. Only to find Crowley gone. This left him more than a little distraught, thinking that perhaps the demon had left him.

Crowley had not, in fact, left Aziraphale. Not by choice, anyway. He had been dragged in for the same sort of questioning by his own head office.

Crowley sprawled languidly across the chair that sat facing Hastur and Ligur. He was well aware of its purpose. It was intentionally uncomfortable and was meant to position him such that the two other demons could loom over him. Fuck them, Crowley had decided. He was going to act like that chair was a Satanblessed throne.

"You're working with an angel," was the first thing out of Hastur's mouth.

"Very observant. What, do you want a cookie or summat? Except, I don't think you've earned one, given it's taken you almost a century to notice," Crowley snarked at him.

"We do not form relationships of any kind with angels! They are the enemy!" Hastur lectured, clearly unimpressed by Crowley's dismissive behavior.

 _"We don't form relationships with angels, Crowley! They're the enemy, Crowley!"_ Crowley mocked, miming talking with one hand. "Tell me something, fellas. And do take your time before you answer this. I know thinking isn't your strong suit. Hastur, you've got your little toad there -"

"It's a frog," Hastur corrected irritably.

"Whatever," Crowley dismissed, waving him off. "You've got your little malformed amphibian. And Ligur, you've got your… What _is_ that supposed to be? Some kind of iguana? Doesn't matter. My point is, look around, boys! Do you know what you _don't_ see in this room?"

"Your daemon," Ligur answered with a slight snarl.

"Correct!" Crowley said. "I'm impressed. You've impressed me. Do you know _why_ you don't see my daemon?" He paused for the space of a breath, then bellowed menacingly at them, " _Because I haven't got one_ , you morons! I don't have a daemon! And I don't know if you've noticed, but _these_ -" he pointed to his eyes "- don't exactly blend in with the humans! He needed a daemon, I needed a way to blend in. We both got what we needed.

"Besides, answer me this. Aren't angels supposed to be the purest of beings?" He took in Ligur's slight nod with an unimpressed stare. "Then tell me, is there anything more purely evil a demon can do than lead an _angel_ into temptation? Humans are easy enough, you basically just point them in the right direction and they'll practically damn themselves. Once they start really developing this new 'writing' thing, I imagine it'll be as easy as putting up signs.

"But an _angel_ … Now that takes _finesse_. That takes _skill_. And I've managed to insinuate myself into every facet of this one's life. I have him wrapped around my finger. Maybe he hasn't started to _really_ bend yet, but just you wait. You'll see. I'll damn the feathery bastard yet. Now, do you two want to be responsible for putting a stop to _that_?"

As it turned out, they did not. Especially after Crowley asked them what they thought Beelzebub's reaction would be if he found out what Hastur and Ligur were responsible for disrupting. And the moment he mentioned Lucifer's potential reaction, the two demons couldn't get him out of their interrogation room fast enough.

It was still dark when he returned to the village. He could only hope it was the same night. Time didn't pass quite the same way in Hell. The same was true of Heaven. Aziraphale's stricken look when he walked into their hut told him he had most definitely been gone for more than a few hours.

"Crowley?" the angel asked, blinking at him. "Crowley! I thought you'd gone."

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that, angel?" Crowley asked, smiling and taking Aziraphale's hand. It was immediately withdrawn, but there had been genuine emotion in the angel's outburst. Aziraphale really had been worried Crowley might leave.

"I don't know," Aziraphale admitted. "I suppose with you being a demon and my being whisked off for questioning…"

"Oh, way to stereotype, angel," Crowley told him in mock offense. "I was detained by my own side. How did you get away?"

"Ah. That's, um… That's not important," Aziraphale told him. "How did _you_ get away?"

"Psh, easy," Crowley grinned. "I told them that tempting an angel was the most evil thing one could do and threatened to tell Beleezebub and Lucifer who it was that put an end to that plan."

"Oh. And, um, is that _actually_ your intention?" Aziraphale asked a bit nervously.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I don't know if that's possible. You're _annoyingly_ earnest. Anyway, what did you tell your side?"

"That I thought I could redeem you," Aziraphale mumbled.

" _What?_ " Crowley exclaimed.

"Well, you _are_ kind," Aziraphale replied, annoyingly earnestly.

Crowley was suddenly about an inch away from Aziraphale. His face went a bit scaly around the edges and his nostrils began smoking just ever so slightly as he quite literally _hissed_ at the angel, "Don't you _ever_ even suggest something like that ever again. Are we clear?"

Aziraphale raised his hands in surrender and squeaked in a rather undignified manner, "Yes! Yes. I won't bring it up again."

Now in a terrible mood, Crowley resumed his serpentine form and curled himself into a ball, staunchly ignoring the angel. Each time Aziraphale tried to get his attention, the only indication the demon had heard him at all was an increase in the amount of smoke drifting up from the center of the mass of scales and outrage. He would not be redeemed. There was no way in heaven he was going back to, well, Heaven.


	5. A Witch, a Witchfinder, a Demon, and an Angel Walk Into a Bookshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, you did leave a bit out, angel..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt is still a bit wary of the angel and demon watching over his shoulders.

"Wait, wait. So you're telling me Crowley is responsible for dragons in the Far East?" Anathema said over her third glass of wine. Newt, who had begged off alcohol under the excuse of having to drive later, sipped at his tea as he glanced between the witch, the demon, and the angel. 

“Well, not quite responsible for them, but he did help them along a bit,” Aziraphale replied.

The angel had finally convinced the pair to come visit the bookshop in Soho. While he adored the "Them," as he had learned the children referred to themselves, it would be nice to have some time that was more for the adults. Crowley had agreed with that sentiment, and he had contacted Anathema and Newt, who had as well. So at the moment, they were all four piled into the back room, all of them drunk but Newt. Aziraphale had been recounting old stories while Crowley whined and groaned about how the angel was ruining his bad name.

"I might be wrong, but I think you did that yourself by helping stop the apocalypse," Anathema said, giving Crowley a skeptical look. The comment - along with the alcohol - had Aziraphale laughing so uproariously that he missed whatever sarcastic reply the demon gave. Even Newt, who still seemed just a touch uneasy around both the angel and the demon at times, was grinning into his tea.

"She's got a point," Newt boldly pointed out. Perched on his shoulder, Verity looked over at the demon, watching for his reaction. Both she and Newt were unnerved by the angel’s and demon’s lack of daemons, but Verity was particularly unnerved by the demon. Which had made perfect sense to Newt once he had learned that said demon was the Serpent of Eden.

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. "Alright, alright, just get on with it angel." However, rather than give Aziraphale a chance to go on with the story, he continued himself instead. "Of course, he's left out all the best bits about himself becoming the blessed firebird of the East."

"I thought phoenixes were generally a feminine symbol," Anathema said, genuinely curious. Under the table, Constant, who had up to this point been halfway to dozing on Anathema’s feet, perked up and took interest, just as curious as his human to see what the angel would say.

Aziraphale straightened his waistcoat and replied, "Yes, quite, but you know, what is gender  _ really _ to an ethereal being?"

Constant snickered quietly. Looking across the table at the angel, Crowley grinned, his fangs on full display. "Oh, come on, now. I thought you said my lot were supposed to be the liars. Means a whole lot more to you than it ever has to me, angel. Don't act like we don't both know it."

"Yes,  _ alright _ , but I don't see what makes it so funny," said Aziraphale. "After all, there's nothing inherently  _ wrong _ with being a woman any more than there is with being a man."

"It's only funny 'cause it gets you so flustered." Crowley's comment was met with a half-hearted scowl from Aziraphale.

All of that fell away, however, at Newt's next question. "I agree with you both. But there's one thing I've never quite understood about the Old Testament. You mentioned Noah. You said that was when you and Crowley decided to work together." 

Were he honest, Newt could admit that he was partially looking for confirmation, as Crowley had kept drunkenly interrupting Aziraphale's drunken account of events to emphasize just how terrible the angel's golems had actually been. The angel had merely seemed very slightly tipsy, but the demon had appeared fantastically drunk already by the time he and Anathema had arrived. Then again, Crowley did seem to be a bit boisterous and dramatic even while  _ sober _ , so it had been difficult to tell whether or not he was actually drunk.

Newt's eyebrows drew together as he thought about how to word his question. "When God decided to drown all those innocent people, why would She do that? If She's meant to be so loving? There were kids there. Can't very well kill a bunch of kids and then call yourself benevolent and merciful, can you?"

In spite of his recent separation from Heaven, Aziraphale still looked  _ extremely _ uncomfortable with the question. As such, it was unsurprising that it was Crowley who answered first. "You can't. Not rightly, anyway. One of the few groups of humans I've never taken issue with killing, if I'm honest. People who hurt kids. Bastards deserve what's waiting for them."

"But God doesn't work in the same way as humans," Aziraphale argued weakly. "The ineffable plan -"

"Is bullshit and we both know it," Crowley cut in. "I'd not worry too much about it though, Newt. None of the kids died."

Newt looked confused. "How, though?"

Crowley shrugged and gave him a little grin. "That's what we demons are best at, isn't it? Fouling up God's almighty plan?"

"You saved them." It wasn't a question so much as a dawning realization from Newt. Verity cocked her head at the serpent, studying him as though in a new light.

"Aww. See? I knew you were sweet," Anathema said, grinning at Crowley, who rolled his eyes and huffed and complained dramatically.

"Yes, dear. You're an evil, wiley serpent," Aziraphale commented with a grin of his own. "But let us return to the story, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it helps break up China. Crowley seems particularly fond of China for some reason. I'm also going to just pretend I didn't have to rewrite bits of this to include Anathema's and Newt's daemons. Because that totally hasn't been what's driven the entire plot so far. Additionally, Crowley is genderfluid, fight me.


End file.
